by David Wilikofsky
There’s a sense of mystery around the self titled debut album from Black Nash. Jody Smith, the creative force behind the project, finished a five year stint in the army at the end of 2019. Throughout his enlistment he’d been making home recordings of his songs; when he found himself freshly discharged, unemployed and quarantined at home during 2020, he decided to put together a full length album. That’s pretty much all we get in terms of backstory, but luckily the music speaks for itself. Smith’s debut album sounds like a direct reflection of the past year, a tight set of claustrophobic rock songs straight from the heart of quarantine.
From Taylor Swift to Bandcamp Day exclusives, I’ve listened to a lot of “pandemic” records over the past year. While all this music was born out of our current circumstance, Black Nash is the first album I’ve heard that actually sounds like the experience of living through it. Guitar riffs are heavily distorted, almost sounding waterlogged. Moments of catharsis (like the screeches at the end of opener “Alligator” or the heaving sighs of “Zodiac”) drown under their own weight. Hallucinogenic images of dolphins and snakes and monkeys flit past. Smith often sounds like a caged animal, desperately gnashing at the bars to escape. Much like the last year, it’s weird and scary and insular stuff.
Smith’s songwriting is strong throughout; I keep thinking that if Marc Bolan tried to make a record in his tiny Brooklyn apartment it might sound like this. Glam and psychedelia swirl together, stripped of all bombast and distilled to their essence. But more than anything else this album is a vibe. It’s not having been outside for three days. It’s being unable to remember the last time you saw your friend in person. Perhaps most importantly, it’s a reminder that this too will pass. On the tender love song that closes the album, “It’s You”, the production opens up a bit. The sense of claustrophobia dissipates, and we’re left swooning to Smith’s sweet nothings. The cage door swings open and Smith leads us into the sunlight once again. We may not be there quite yet, but here’s hoping.